Shielded By Ambrose
by Raven-Haired-Artist
Summary: A serial killer is unleashed in the sha Brock vows to find her cousin's killer after she's promoted up from NXT.Her cousin's lover, John Cena, appoints himself & the Shield as her brose takes the task very seriously & doesn't let Sasha out of his n he keep her safe with his friends' help?Sorry the summary tter summary in first chapter! R&R!


**Ratings:** Rated PG-13 to R for violence  
><strong>ContentsWarnings:** some graphic violence  
><strong>Disclaimers:<strong> I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with WWE. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story intended for entertainment only.

_**Prologue/Chapter One  
><strong>_

_**Evil Is Born…**_

"_When this monster entered my brain, I will never know, but it is here to stay. How does one cure himself? I can't stop it, the monster goes on, and hurts me as well as society…"_

_~Dennis Rader (BTK Killer)~_

Being born was the biggest mistake I ever made.

I learned very soon in life that my mother never really wanted me. She reminded me all the time how she wanted a little girl but was instead stuck with a boy.

Things got worse when she left my dad. He took everything out on me. He was drunk every day of his life. And I was beaten every day of mine.

By the time I hit my teen years, I was completely filled with rage. I didn't know how to deal with it, so I did what many people in my situation end up doing. I would pick fights at school and bullied younger, smaller kids. This would result in my getting sent to the principal's office many times over. This brought about more beatings, of course. And I would grow even angrier. But there wasn't much I could do about it, except to bully some more. It was a vicious circle.

My dad died in a drunken car accident soon after I turned eighteen. I was finally free.

But not for very long.

After my dad was killed, I was glad to live on my own. Omaha suddenly became more peaceful to me. Quiet. I could do as I pleased. However, I only had about two years of freedom before sheer hell came on me slow and easy.

I met the woman I would marry. Her name was Debra. I met her one evening at the bowling alley where I worked. I can't believe how quickly I fell for her. She was beautiful. She had long, dark hair. Her olive complexion accentuated her big, pale blue eyes. She was slender, but had curves in all the right places. She was the most sweet, and loving girl I'd ever met. She had a six-year-old daughter named Ginny. That alone should have tipped me off. It never occurred to me to be leery of a woman who had a baby at the age of fourteen. Debra just seemed like a dream. I thought I'd found the one woman who would show me that not all females were like my mother; selfish and manipulative. Instead, I had married a girl who was as manipulative as they come.

Soon after our wedding, her true colors came through. She cheated on me, and left me to take care of Ginny. She wanted to control everything. The money, the house, what cars we bought…_everything_. She was verbally abusive for the first several years of our marriage. And when she saw she could get away with it, she became physically abusive as well. She started out just slapping me. But then she graduated to punches and throwing hard objects at me. I wanted to hit her. I really did. But I knew I'd end up in jail, because who would believe such a beautiful, angelic-looking woman was abusing me? I _wasn't_ going to end up in prison because of her.

Looking back, I should have just left her. But I didn't. I put up with her and her spoiled little brat for ten years. Why? I honestly don't know. I wish I did.

All I _do_ know is I had a new rage building up in me. And I couldn't bully kids to soothe it away anymore. So, I found another way of unleashing my rage. I began preying on stray animals, and lost pets. I would collect them, take them out to the woods behind my house and torture them. It felt good to make something feel the pain and anguish I felt nearly every day of my life. The little creatures had it easy though. Their torture and pain only lasted minutes. I was enduring a lifetime of it. Soon, I ran out of victims. It seemed as though I had cleaned the neighborhood of strays, and caused the owners of their lost, beloved pets to lose hope. I even put the animal patrol officer out of business for the summer.

One night, I'd finally had enough. We were arguing about money, as usual, when she let loose and kicked me in the balls. I fell to the floor gagging in misery. I took the abuse as I always did, but in my head I was already planning.

I was going to kill my wife. _And_ her precious teenage daughter.

Over the next month, I added enough cash to my secret savings to get fake IDs, a used car under my new name, hair dye, and anything else I needed to make a clean get-away. I just needed to figure out how I was going to kill them. It had to be flawless.

I went out to the garage to think up the rest of my plan. I knew the time of my retribution was very near, and it seemed to ignite my fury. I was so angry just thinking over my sham of a marriage. I knew I wanted to do the most painful thing I could to Debra, which was to kill Ginny first, and make her watch while I did. Nothing could hurt her more than watching her precious daughter take her last breath.

My eyes fell on some rope and picked it up, planning to tie them up with it. As my hand latched onto it, however, a roll of barbed wire tumbled to the cement, and I froze.

Barbed wire—even better.

I picked the spool up instead and realized then that I would have to knock them out cold in order to tie them up. There was no way one would let me tie the other up without calling the cops or getting a weapon and using it on me. I figured, what with being bigger and stronger than they were, it should not be difficult to accomplish. I smiled when I imagined the look on their faces when they saw what I had in store for them. I had just finished polishing up the plans in my mind when I heard Ginny's voice behind me.

"Dinner is ready—Hey, what are you doing with that barbed—"

SMACK.

I spun around, slapping her right across the cheek. She fell to the concrete almost silently, too stunned to react. She just lay there sobbing quietly and holding her face.

"Mommy's princess has never felt that before, has she," I taunted her. I moved fast and had the razor-sharp wire around her wrists in mere seconds. Reaching upward, I grabbed some wire cutters from a worktable, and trimmed it. She whimpered then as I pulled her to her feet, dragging her into the house through the kitchen.

I heard Debra setting the table in the dining room, and grabbed a knife off of the tiled counter top. Then I pushed Ginny down to the floor. I could see by the trembling of her body, she was too frightened to run.

"Say a word and your mom is dead," I whispered to her. The fact they were both going to die regardless was irrelevant. I just needed her to be quiet long enough to over-power Debra.

I moved over to the counter, and waited by the kitchen door for her mother to enter the room. She must have heard Ginny's whimper because I heard her rapid footsteps head for the kitchen.

"Ginny? Are you okay, baby?"

Debra walked through the door then and I punched her in the face, giving her no time to defend herself. She moaned in pain on the floor, grabbing her nose as blood gushed from it. I took advantage of her discomfort and had her wrists bound in a piece of the barbed wire in record time.

"I'm going to kill you," she growled at me as a small stream of blood dribbled out the corner of her mouth. She tried to free herself from the barbed wire, but discovered it was far too painful to struggle with.

"No," I smiled at her. "_I'm_ going to kill _you_."

Fear replaced her fury as realization crossed her features. I dragged Ginny over to me and could not mistake the hysteria in her blue eyes.

"No," she whispered. "Please…don't hurt me."

"You have your slut of a mother to thank for this," I told her. "She may as well kill you herself."

"No! Leave my baby alone," Debra shouted at me. "Don't you dare hurt her!"

"Don't hurt her," I asked. "You mean, like this?"

I swiped the sharp knife across each of Ginny's cheeks, and was greeted by her howl of pain.

"STOP IT," Debra screamed in panic. "Leave her alone!"

"She is going to leave this world much easier than you will." I told her. With that, I sliced the knife across Ginny's throat and watched as blood seeped from her wound and puddled onto the linoleum. She gurgled in her agony for several seconds before finally succumbing to her inevitable death.

Debra cowered in the corner, sobbing in despair at what she had been forced to witness. I stepped over to her and didn't hesitate in slashing up her face as well. She cried out and put her hands up to protect herself, which didn't stop me. It just angered me even more. I drove the knife right through one of her hands and twisted it. The sound emitting from her was like nothing on this earth. Finally feeling a little bit of relief I grinned.

"That hurts, huh?"

I then slit her throat with the knife just like I did with Ginny. But before she was able to die, I jammed the knife into her stomach and ripped it upward, savoring the sound of her flesh tearing and her crimson blood splashing onto the floor.

Finally I was free. I could start over.

Quickly, I washed off the knife and took it upstairs with me where my bag had been packed and hidden in the back of the closet. I shoved the murder weapon into the bag to dispose of later. I wanted to get the thing as far from the crime scene as possible.

Changing into a clean pair of jeans and black polo shirt, I tossed my dirty clothes into the bag to discard at another time and place as well. Looking around one last time, I hurried out the back door and headed into the woods. I'd parked my secret car about a mile from the house.

In about twenty minutes I'd be out of here for good. I felt a huge smile spread across my face as I thought of how well my plan had worked so far. I hoped the cops would assume I'd been taken somewhere and killed. Turning into a cold case would be perfect.

When I reached the vehicle, I tossed my bag in the trunk and got in the car. I grabbed the map I'd stashed in the glove compartment and plotted out a route to Albany, New York.

Why Albany?

I'd never been to Albany before. Never mentioned the place in my life. And I needed to be random in choosing my destination just in case the authorities were on my tail. I also planned on being frugal with my funds for a while. If I was discovered, I needed to be prepared. I wanted to be able to get up and leave in a moment's notice if I needed to. But I wasn't complaining. I was finally free. I was going to live life to the fullest.

And I did for a while.

Until my pesky little need to inflict pain on the female population returned, that is.

About a year had passed since I killed my wife and stepdaughter. I was beginning to feel angry again—_irrationally_ angry. The wrath I thought I'd finally buried, still consumed me. It had always been there, just under the surface. I needed to find yet another way to deal with it. I wanted to punish my wife and Ginny all over again. But, of course, I couldn't because they were dead—long dead.

Nonetheless, the idea of retribution soaked up my every thought, and I was desperate to do something about it. I had an epiphany then, it all become so clear in my mind.

What difference did it make if I took my revenge out on my wife and stepdaughter, or just women in general? Women were all the same anyway! They all deserved the torture I so utterly wanted to bestow on them.

I came up with a plan one night when I was flipping channels on my television and came across a wrestling program. I watched as two scantily clad women scuffled and frolicked around in the ring, completely for the men's benefit. I was repulsed as their breasts all but fell out of their tops.

And then it hit me—this was it!

I wanted to hurt any promiscuous, strong-willed woman and make them pay, because that's what I hated in my wife. Women had to always rely on a man to take care of them but yet treated them like dirt. They were manipulative horrible creatures, and they had to pay for it.

As I watched the two female wrestlers, I realized they were truly no better than Debra. Or Ginny. Or even my mother. Their beauty was only on the outside, and they used their looks ruthlessly. They were doing nothing for society, unlike what I planned to do for the world. I would dedicate my life to ridding the world of their filth.

One whore at a time.

And what better place to start than in the wrestling industry? There were plenty of trashy women to slaughter.

I just had to find my way in...

And I did. My next victim was a blond wrestler in training. She wanted to sleep with me one night, so I obliged her. Right before I slashed her throat. I discovered sex was another way to dominate women. They had NO control over what I did to them. But I discovered one little problem.

You see, part of me wanted to rid the world of filth—and I still do. But I have to take care of my own needs first.

I find the idea of reenacting the killing of my wife and her daughter to be very therapeutic. But if I want to feel as though I am indeed killing them again—over and over— I need women who resemble them physically as well as in their actions.

I need black-haired women.

Blondes and redheads are not going to work.

At least they won't for now. Their time will come though.

I have my eye on the perfect girl right now. She is the spitting image of my two burdens. But I need to experiment with my craft first.

This is my art.

And art takes practice…


End file.
